Iatrophobia
by hiimian
Summary: Tucker is afraid of doctors, doctors' offices, nurses' offices, hospitals, etc. But why? And why didn't Danny know until the North Mercy Hospital incident if they've been friends for most of their lives? Introspective oneshot.


Good morning/day/afternoon/evening! Here's another one of the oneshots I had in development. I got this idea a few days ago when I was rewatching "Doctor's Disorders." Basically, I was curious why Danny didn't know about Tucker's fear of doctors, hospitals, nurses, etc. when they were supposed to have been friends since at least 2nd grade. So, I started diving into the brain of Tucker Foley and trying to figure him out while staying [mostly] in canon.

That's how a lot of my stories have started, actually. I found myself asking myself "I wonder why..." or "I wonder what would happen if..."

I wasn't really sure how to classify this oneshot. There's a bit of angst, a bit of friendship, a dash of hurt and comfort, and a smidgen of humor.

Once again: Yes, I can be a grammar Nazi when I want to be and edit my writing to death, but this _is_ unbeta'd. So if you find any errors or think a part needs reworking, please don't hesitate to message me. And I always love feedback in general! Reviews are life.

General notes:

"This is speech."

 _'This is thought.'_

 _This_ and THIS and *this* are emphasis. *This* sort of emphasis is more along the lines of the snide, like the sort of thing you'd say with sarcastic jazz hands or over-emphatic air quotes.

Customary disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom.

* * *

 **IATROPHOBIA**

* * *

Iatrophobia.

That's the name of what I'm supposed to have. Iatrophobia. That's a capital "i," by the way, not a lowercase "L." I'm not bad at grammar. Really, I should stop using Arial and start typing with a serif font like Times New Roman or something so you can tell, but I hate how old-school those are. Whatever.

Anyway, iatrophobia. Fear of doctors.

More like fear of _demon spawns_. Now see, I'm a very honest person and probably the most humble guy in the state of Ohio if not America, so I will fully admit to being a little afraid of doctors and hospitals. But can't I say I'm justified? My brilliant brain just freezes whenever I pass the nurse's office because I know what it means when someone has to go in there. When someone might need help to keep them from dying.

Of course, Sam says it's illogical because it's a phobia. But I mean, come on, you only ever go see doctors when you're in serious trouble. Yeah, there's check-ups, I guess, but doctors hit your appendages with a hammer on PURPOSE?! Point is, I've never gone to the doctor for a good reason. I've only ever been hurt, gotten hurt worse, or been sliced open like a science experiment.

Okay, so _maaayyybe_ it was an appendectomy and not vivisection…

I haven't always been afraid of doctors, though. That's the thing; it only developed since starting high school; actually, since a little after Danny's accident.

And the real reason why this phobia started _is_ Danny.

I'll never tell him, though. Or Sam. Lord knows those two lovebirds have enough to worry about, what with Danny's heroics and Sam's fully developed crush on him, and subsequent constant worry for his well-being like a perpetual Mary Jane Watson or Pepper Potts. But the reality is that I've seen Danny cut open, electrocuted (both during his accident and multiple times since), stabbed, shot, burned, and broken. I can't count how many times I've had to look at his awkwardly positioned shoulder while I reset it, or try to keep ectoplasm or blood from completely coating my hands when applying gauze, and so on and so forth. I've only ever been Danny's *doctor* when he's been on the brink of death. Well, full death.

I've just— I've seen too much, okay? I can't handle the injuries. Seeing him so hurt and so many times is messing with my brain. It's started affecting me so much that I can't even type this out because my hands are shaking so much. That's why I'm using talk-to-text, so forgive me if this is a little stream-of-consciousness-y or if some words don't make sense in Contacts. I'll have to go through and edit out the auto-corrosion errors later.

So I guess I should add that the only reason I'm talking this all out is because Sam said I should. But I can't afford a counselor, and you can bet anything you want that I don't want to talk to my parents about it.

I think the first time I felt this fear was-

 _(CRASH)_

OOOWWW! …Danny?! Oh my god, are you okay?!

 _Yeah, sorry, Tuck. Good thing the window was open or I would've broken it! I don't think I can manage intangibility at the moment, it was hard enough just getting here. At least you broke the fall, heh heh._

 _Look, I know you hate medical…anything, but Sam's out of town tonight for that Morbid Antisocial Youth concert and it's a little hard to do this by myself, so I thought I'd come over and— What are you doing?_

Oh, nothing! Nothing. _(furious clicking)_ Just that essay for Lancer. So what's the problem?

 _(sigh)_ _Freaking Skulker. Caught me with one of his rockets while I wasn't looking. Got him in the end, of course, but…_

 _(fabric shifting, soft squelching)_

…Oh. That's disgus- (gagging noises)

 _Yeah. I'm so sorry to ask you to do this, Tuck! I'll buy you a Nasty Burger or something._

Excuse me for a minute…

… _Tucker?_

 _(receding, hurried footsteps)_

 _(distant retching)_

 _Boy, Sam wasn't kidding about that phobia…_

 _(toilet flushes, water running, possible toothbrushing)_

 _(approaching footsteps)_

Sorry about that.

 _No worries, dude. Where's your first aid kit?_

Right here. _(drawer opens and closes)_ Alright, let's get this over with.

 _(bed springs)_

 _Do you have a towel? I don't want to get ectoplasm on your comforter. (fabric rustling) Okay, you do the antiseptic, I'll try not to literally wail the house down._

Ha ha. Where are the cotton balls?

 _(rustling of supplies, a plastic baggie opens, liquid sloshes in a bottle)_

Holy CRAP, that hurts!

 _Dude, you're not the injured one…_

Oh. Right.

 _(wiping, pained hissing)_

 _So, uh, how's your evening at home been?_

It's a typical Foley night. Meaty dinner, piles of homework, saving my best friend's *literal* guts. You know…the usual.

 _(chuckling)_

 _(gauze cutting)_

 _Okay, here's the tricky part. I think my rib is dislocated…or broken…_

Considering your torso is currently flipping me off, I'd say you're right.

 _Can you help me set it? I saw Sam do it once, and she watched like a million YouTube tutorials. She just, like, pushed it or something…_

 _(a gulp)_ I'll try…

 _(heavy thud)_

 _AAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHH!_

SORRYSORRYSORRYIAMSOOOOSORRY

 _WHAT THE HELL, TUCKER? You're not supposed to PUNCH it!_

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING, DANNY.

 _(fast-approaching, heavy footsteps)_

 _Tucker Foley, WHAT is going on in there?!_

Nothing, Mom! Just a first-person shooter game!

 _Well turn it down! It sounded like it came from inside the house!_

Sorry!

(slower receding footsteps)

Whew, that was close. Try to be quieter, Danny. And stop glaring. Aren't your nerves supposed to be slowed down in ghost mode anyway?

 _Um, YEAH, not turned off completely!_

Just shut up and I'll try again.

 _NO! No. That…won't be necessary. I think it worked._

Assertion and confidence, Danny. That's my secret to success.

 _That, and temporary dissociation so you don't have to think about what you're doing._

Point.

 _Well, all that aside, I really do appreciate it. I really owe you one, Tuck._

Just overshadow a girl into going to junior prom with me and we'll call it even.

 _…_ _I don't owe you THAT much, Tucker. And stop glaring._

 _(scoff)_ Go fly home, Glowstick.

 _(snicker)_ _Enjoy your evening, Casanova._

 _(snicker)_ See ya later, bro. I hope you get better soon!

 _Eh, I'll be fine in an hour. Thanks again, Tuck!_

 _(whoosh of air)_

 _…_ He couldn't have waited an hour to heal instead of putting me through _THAT_?

 _(stomping, chair squeaks, clicking)_

Oh, crap, I forgot to hit "Pause…"

* * *

So I'm going to pretend there's a talk-to-text program that can scribe ambient noises as well and recognize different voices from the main user, thus putting them into italics to differentiate. I didn't want to explain this before you read to keep you guessing, because I am nothing if not a bit of a power-hungry drama queen.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one. Like I've said before, I like to write in different styles, voices, and formats to challenge myself as a writer and not fall into any repetition. I also like focusing on characters that wouldn't normally interest me, but Tucker is not one of them. I think he has a lot more potential for depth of character than some people (and the show itself sometimes) gave him credit for.

Let me know what you think! I still have one more developed-but-not-written oneshot idea in the works as well as two multi-chapter fics. But I'm not going to start publishing the multi-chapters until I have almost completely developed them. I don't want to leave you guys hanging waiting for updates on an unfinished story just because I'm lacking inspiration. One of them is almost ready to go, but I'm improving chapter 1 and the later chapters need chronological restructuring.

Anyway, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

One final note as of December 15, 2017: PLEASE HELP I NEED A BETA. I HAVE STORIES WAITING FOR PUBLISHING WHICH I REALLY DON'T WANT TO SHARE UNLESS THEY'VE BEEN BETA'D BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT THEM.


End file.
